Finishing the thought in Sean Bell part 2...
But what is it that makes it alright to go to such extremes. And it must be alright on some level because across the nation Black American men are assaulted like this often. I don’t recall a single white male that was attacked in a similar manner once in my entire life. I’m not talking about a shootout with officers, or hostage taking. I mean beatings by half a dozen officers, being fired at enough times to necessitate reloading firearms, and abuses that even the prisoners at Abu Ghraib have not received.
How many White American men have had guns placed in their face by a police officer once in their life? To my knowledge I know of 5 in my life that have had it happen once, two of them being criminals that were being arrested. That’s out of maybe a couple of hundred White American males I have known in my life across this nation. Again this is versus virtually every African American male I have ever known, regardless of age. And I would not be surprised if it happens a couple of dozen more times over the rest of my life.
The question is not if this one incident was excessive. The anger is not over this happening to one group of men. The fact is that this is a pattern, systemically happening across this nation for more than the almost 4 decades I have been alive. So the question is, why?
If I seem angry, I am. If I seem disappointed in the system, I am. If the question is if I respect police officers, the answer is in general I do. I’ve known several I call friends (of all nationalities and race). But beyond all that is fear. For my brothers, my friends, and myself. Because even though we all may avoid drugs, escape the ‘ghetto fabulous’ mentality, earn an education, and struggle to become successful in careers we may still be killed by those enforcing the laws of the nation for nothing more than a speeding ticket or getting our wallet out to identify ourselves.
What more do I need to say?
This is what I think, what do you think?
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Sean Bell in NYC - 11.29.2006.2
Continued from Sean Bell part 1 ...
My best friend and I were on a business trip. We were going to Delaware for a meeting. My friend, Mike, was driving his mini-van. We both were dressed in business attire; He was more casual I was in a suit. We drove from New York City through New Jersey on the turnpike and so on. We were doing about 70-75 on the turnpike and were in the middle lane, keeping up with the flow of traffic, not exceeding it. 2 State troopers pulled us over, again guns drawn. This time I had to have my hands on the dash. We were given a ticket for speeding, as at least 5 cars passed by at what seemed to be about 70+ and one was doing what looked like 80 or 90. It was the middle of the day on a Tuesday. I was 31 or 32, Mike is one year younger.
I can go on, but I don’t think I need to. It has been my experience that the police can be as potentially deadly as a crackhead. As a matter of fact, I’ve had fewer problems with crackheads than officers. It doesn’t make a difference how I am dressed (suits or jeans – I never dress in the thuggish style), my age, my education, or where I have lived. I’ve had 2 occasions where someone has drawn a gun on me and they were not police officers. I’ve had at least 10 times where police officers have drawn guns on me.
I am hardly unique. Every Black American I know can describe several similar situations throughout their lives. I live with the fear that one day I will be shot by police officers, probably without cause. Events like the ones I mentioned in the onset don’t make me feel any less likely to be killed.
I say all that for a reason. Mr. Sean Bell and his friends were fired at 51 times. One officer fired 31 times another 11 times. The tires of the car were not shot out. Deadly force was used, though it was against official policy. I have seen reports that say that the first officer on the scene identified himself, and did not fire as Mr. Bell tried to drive away – brushing against the officer. As Mr. Bell continued to attempt to get away the officer seems to have become fearful for his life and the results were one dead another shot 23 times and the third shot 11 times.
Was it excessive? Imagine that this was a car full of white males. If that would be excessive then this must be. The bigger question I have always had is why such force needs to be used solely against African American men. Mr. Rodney King had 5 or 6 officers beating him; Mr. Diallo had 41 shots from 4 officers [at least one shot was through his foot after he was laying on the ground dead]. In each case the officers walked away without a single charge. Mr. Louima was violated in a police station with a plunger. Given these facts, my own experiences and those of friends, if I had a chance to get away from a police officer in a touchy situation I’d try to run as well. It’s not about guilt, it’s about survival.
Continued in the final part ...
My best friend and I were on a business trip. We were going to Delaware for a meeting. My friend, Mike, was driving his mini-van. We both were dressed in business attire; He was more casual I was in a suit. We drove from New York City through New Jersey on the turnpike and so on. We were doing about 70-75 on the turnpike and were in the middle lane, keeping up with the flow of traffic, not exceeding it. 2 State troopers pulled us over, again guns drawn. This time I had to have my hands on the dash. We were given a ticket for speeding, as at least 5 cars passed by at what seemed to be about 70+ and one was doing what looked like 80 or 90. It was the middle of the day on a Tuesday. I was 31 or 32, Mike is one year younger.
I can go on, but I don’t think I need to. It has been my experience that the police can be as potentially deadly as a crackhead. As a matter of fact, I’ve had fewer problems with crackheads than officers. It doesn’t make a difference how I am dressed (suits or jeans – I never dress in the thuggish style), my age, my education, or where I have lived. I’ve had 2 occasions where someone has drawn a gun on me and they were not police officers. I’ve had at least 10 times where police officers have drawn guns on me.
I am hardly unique. Every Black American I know can describe several similar situations throughout their lives. I live with the fear that one day I will be shot by police officers, probably without cause. Events like the ones I mentioned in the onset don’t make me feel any less likely to be killed.
I say all that for a reason. Mr. Sean Bell and his friends were fired at 51 times. One officer fired 31 times another 11 times. The tires of the car were not shot out. Deadly force was used, though it was against official policy. I have seen reports that say that the first officer on the scene identified himself, and did not fire as Mr. Bell tried to drive away – brushing against the officer. As Mr. Bell continued to attempt to get away the officer seems to have become fearful for his life and the results were one dead another shot 23 times and the third shot 11 times.
Was it excessive? Imagine that this was a car full of white males. If that would be excessive then this must be. The bigger question I have always had is why such force needs to be used solely against African American men. Mr. Rodney King had 5 or 6 officers beating him; Mr. Diallo had 41 shots from 4 officers [at least one shot was through his foot after he was laying on the ground dead]. In each case the officers walked away without a single charge. Mr. Louima was violated in a police station with a plunger. Given these facts, my own experiences and those of friends, if I had a chance to get away from a police officer in a touchy situation I’d try to run as well. It’s not about guilt, it’s about survival.
Continued in the final part ...
Sean Bell - 11.29.2006.1
While I normally save my non-entertainment related posts for my www.mvass.com site I do on occasion make an exception. This is one such case.
Rodney King, Amidou Diallo, Sean Bell. Each of these names evoke an image to everyone who hears them, and for many of us a feeling as well. For me it evokes fear. It’s just that simple. I’m not unique many Black Americans, especially males, share this fear.
Face it, life is not the most fun as an African American male in these days if there ever was a time that it was. Let me explain. I have never been arrested or charged with a crime (I did get a ticket once though). I have never dealt drugs, though I grew up with many that have. I’m from the Bronx, and my family was far from rich. I have seen more than half of my friends and associates die or jailed by the time I left high school. That’s not a glorious thing, nothing to take pride in, just the facts.
The first time I had a run-in with the police that I can easily recall was in a train station. The officer (Black) was busting my testicles about my train pass (a day old) and made me pay full fare, which irritated me and I started to argue with him. His response was to reach for his gun and told me to go on my way. I was with 4 friends, 3 of them women, who dragged me away [I was a bit of a hot head back then, but not violent]. I was 17, in high school and taking classes at City College, 5’ 9”-ish and weighed about 110 pounds or less. [Yes I was skinny; some might say I still am] I was equal no threat to a full grown, armed police officer yet he was preparing to bring out his gun on me just because of my words.
In college I was walking down a street at about 12 midnight or a bit later. I was going to get some cigarettes at the newspaper stand which was the only store open at the time. As I was crossing a well-lit main street a police car pulled up, 2 officers (white) popped out the car, drew their guns and started to question me. As I was being questioned the radio was blaring about the suspect they were actually looking for. A white male, about 6’ tall with blond hair, who was wearing the same color jacket as my pants, and was in site of another police officer 5 blocks away from me. Say what you might, but I don’t look like a blond white male, and considering I was under a street lamp at the time, with an open jacket and 22 I’m not sure why then felt the need to have drawn guns on me in the first 5 seconds they saw me.
In Los Angeles, a few months after the Rodney King riots as I recall, officers pulled over a car I was in. I was in the passenger side seat, the driver was a Korean American friend of mine named Danny. In the back seat were 2 of our other friends from work and they happened to be white guys. We all were about 24-26. It was Friday night, about 10 or 11pm, and we were driving down Hollywood Blvd. Once we were pulled over I had an officer immediately by the door, gun pointing at my face, telling me to put my hands on the ceiling of the car. Danny was treated to a similar reaction, then he had to get his identification, all the while I had my hands on the ceiling of the car. Several times throughout this process the officer on my side kept asking the 2 white guys in the backseat if they were ok. Once the officers were sure the car wasn’t stolen, and that neither Danny nor I had any warrants we were told we could go. When we asked why we were pulled over, we were told we were driving suspiciously. We were on our way out to go to a bar, hadn’t had a drink yet, and had circled the block once looking for a parking spot. I guesstimate we had been on Hollywood Blvd. a total of 5-7 minutes and did not hold up any traffic. [Probable reason, which everyone in the car agreed on, was that they thought we had jacked the car and they didn’t like the look in the way we were seated]
To be continued...
Rodney King, Amidou Diallo, Sean Bell. Each of these names evoke an image to everyone who hears them, and for many of us a feeling as well. For me it evokes fear. It’s just that simple. I’m not unique many Black Americans, especially males, share this fear.
Face it, life is not the most fun as an African American male in these days if there ever was a time that it was. Let me explain. I have never been arrested or charged with a crime (I did get a ticket once though). I have never dealt drugs, though I grew up with many that have. I’m from the Bronx, and my family was far from rich. I have seen more than half of my friends and associates die or jailed by the time I left high school. That’s not a glorious thing, nothing to take pride in, just the facts.
The first time I had a run-in with the police that I can easily recall was in a train station. The officer (Black) was busting my testicles about my train pass (a day old) and made me pay full fare, which irritated me and I started to argue with him. His response was to reach for his gun and told me to go on my way. I was with 4 friends, 3 of them women, who dragged me away [I was a bit of a hot head back then, but not violent]. I was 17, in high school and taking classes at City College, 5’ 9”-ish and weighed about 110 pounds or less. [Yes I was skinny; some might say I still am] I was equal no threat to a full grown, armed police officer yet he was preparing to bring out his gun on me just because of my words.
In college I was walking down a street at about 12 midnight or a bit later. I was going to get some cigarettes at the newspaper stand which was the only store open at the time. As I was crossing a well-lit main street a police car pulled up, 2 officers (white) popped out the car, drew their guns and started to question me. As I was being questioned the radio was blaring about the suspect they were actually looking for. A white male, about 6’ tall with blond hair, who was wearing the same color jacket as my pants, and was in site of another police officer 5 blocks away from me. Say what you might, but I don’t look like a blond white male, and considering I was under a street lamp at the time, with an open jacket and 22 I’m not sure why then felt the need to have drawn guns on me in the first 5 seconds they saw me.
In Los Angeles, a few months after the Rodney King riots as I recall, officers pulled over a car I was in. I was in the passenger side seat, the driver was a Korean American friend of mine named Danny. In the back seat were 2 of our other friends from work and they happened to be white guys. We all were about 24-26. It was Friday night, about 10 or 11pm, and we were driving down Hollywood Blvd. Once we were pulled over I had an officer immediately by the door, gun pointing at my face, telling me to put my hands on the ceiling of the car. Danny was treated to a similar reaction, then he had to get his identification, all the while I had my hands on the ceiling of the car. Several times throughout this process the officer on my side kept asking the 2 white guys in the backseat if they were ok. Once the officers were sure the car wasn’t stolen, and that neither Danny nor I had any warrants we were told we could go. When we asked why we were pulled over, we were told we were driving suspiciously. We were on our way out to go to a bar, hadn’t had a drink yet, and had circled the block once looking for a parking spot. I guesstimate we had been on Hollywood Blvd. a total of 5-7 minutes and did not hold up any traffic. [Probable reason, which everyone in the car agreed on, was that they thought we had jacked the car and they didn’t like the look in the way we were seated]
To be continued...
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